Author's Note: In the last chapter, Saria celebrated her twelfth birthday, but it was far from a joyous occasion - first with her parents cruelly forgetting and then, when she invited Adia around to play, she was disheartened to realise that her only friend still feared her for her previous actions. Push came to shove and Saria ended up taking revenge on Adia by burning her with the lighter Assef had gotten her as a birthday gift. Now, two weeks have passed and the annual Kite Fighting tournament is taking place - but Saria cannot hope to foresee what the day has in store...
A warning here that this chapter deals with the rape scene that takes place in the original novel, for those who have read it, you will know what I am talking about. Please note, again, that as always, I neither agree with nor condone the actions, thoughts, feelings or opinions of the characters in this story - I am merely exploring their perspective through a work of fiction. This may not be for everyone, and I of course, entirely understand that, but please do keep that in mind when reading. This is entirely fictional and should be taken as such.
Thank you to all those who take the time to read this story. It really does mean a lot, so if you have read and enjoyed, and are continuing to read on, please know that you have my gratitude and that your support means the world.
Thank you, and now, let's get started!
There are days that start out like any other, but that inevitably end up changing your life. Of course, nobody knows what these days - innocuous as they are - could possibly entail, nor that they will be any different from the rest. But one small action can cause a ripple effect, and one ripple can spiral into a tsunami of consequences. The day that I am about to transcribe right now was one of those. Of course, at the time, I had no idea that this would be the case.
It was early morning, perhaps about nine or thereabouts, I don't truly know. I sat on the living room sofa next to my brother, who had one arm casually draped over my shoulder, my fingers interlocked with his, while his other hand absently drummed on the armrest, a soft, yet still somewhat audible, tapping sound. Every so often, he would lean down and kiss the top of my head, while we looked at one another as though there was nobody else who existed in the world but us.
But alas, we were not alone, much as I yearned for us to be. Our parents were in the room with us too. Usually, the Ahmed family didn't often spend mornings in the living room together - or any time at all, really. We mostly only spent time together during evening meals - perhaps breakfast too, though those weren't nearly as formal. The rest of the day, we all avoided one another at all costs; Assef and I staying separate from Mahmood and Tanya. This morning, my dearest brother and I wanted nothing more than to listen to the radio in peace. Was that so much to ask?
Apparently it was. For mere minutes after we had sat down, Mahmood and Tanya entered. Tanya sat in one of the armchairs, the one closest to the door, and Mahmood crossed to the radio. Without a word to either Assef or myself, he manoeuvred the dials, changing the channel until he got it to what he wanted. The news. Because of course, that was what was important here. That Mahmood Ahmed got to hear the morning fucking news. Who cares that his children were already listening to something else? Not that I truly was that invested in the song that wafted over the airwaves before he so rudely interrupted us, but it was the principle of the thing, was it not? The most basic respect.
Still, there was nothing for it but to allow Mahmood and Tanya to get away with their rude behaviour. I'm sure that you can guess what fate might befall either Assef or myself if we were to speak up. I closed my eyes, shifting myself on the sofa so that I was now lying across it, one arm draped across my stomach, the other lolling by my side. From my peripheral vision, I noticed Tanya glancing at me, her face pinched, eyebrows furrowed together. She was, no doubt, annoyed by the fact that I wasn't sitting up straight like a proper young lady should. But whatever. She didn't say a word to me, and I wasn't going to be intimidated by her glares, no matter how frightening she might've thought they were.
I turned my gaze from the bitch, and rested my head in Assef's lap. He ran his fingers through my hair, gentle, calming strokes that made me forget I was also sharing this moment with our awful parents. I closed my eyes, and listened to the monotonous droning of the news-reporter as he kept the citizens of Wazir-Akbhar-Khan up-to-date on all the latest goings-on. Mostly, it was rather boring, I must admit. A lot of politics. He spoke of the new president, of the regimes that he was planning to implement, how people had taken the end of the monarchy. Nothing interesting, at least, not to my mind.
But I must admit that, no matter how tedious I found this, I couldn't completely shut myself off from what I was hearing. Whenever the news was on, I found that a part of me listened intently, keeping an ear out for any information that I could glean about how the investigation regarding the 'disappearance' of Zainab Niazai was going. As of right now, there were no new leads, and there hadn't been any reports on her for at least a week. The police were, of course, doing their due diligence to find the missing child, but they didn't seem to be making much, if any, progress.
That was good, in my eyes. The more time passed without them finding anything, the less chance there was of them finding Zainab's body. Of course, I was fairly confident that, even if they did discover her, there was no way that anyone would ever suspect that my brother and I were the culprits. That said, though, I didn't actively go listening to the news because of Zainab, I wasn't some obsessed stalker or anything like that. Still, the best option to hope for, in my eyes, was that the police would become so frustrated by the lack of evidence that they would give up, and Zainab's case would go cold.
The news report was coming to an end. I opened my eyes, the upper half of my body still lying across Assef's knees, and glanced around the room. Mahmood had gotten to his feet, and was now standing beside the radio again. Tanya remained seated, legs crossed at the ankles, back straight, hands folded demurely in her lap as though she were royalty posing for a portrait. She looked at Mahmood, and he stared back at her. Not for the first time, I considered how odd it was that neither of them had spoken a word to one another, nor had they displayed any sign of affection since entering the living room. How odd, for a married couple that liked to pretend to the outside world that they were so deeply in love, so utterly perfect.
Mahmood fiddled again with the dials on the radio, this time switching it off. Of course. He had gotten what he needed out of it, and there was no need for it to remain on, then. For the longest moment, an awkward silence hung in the air, as we all looked at one another. I rose from my position on Assef's lap, sitting up once more, though I remained as close to him as was humanly possible.
"Well..." Mahmood began, looking at my brother and I. He was trying to start a conversation with us, but failing miserably. After several pathetic attempts, he finally settled on asking my brother, "tell me, Assef jan, are you planning to take your sister to watch the Kite Fighting tournament today?" He was referring, of course, to the annual tournament that took place every Winter, in which children from all over Kabul gathered, flying their kites with their glass-covered strings high in the air, trying to cut the strings of the opposing kites. It was tradition for Assef to bring me to watch it, every single year, and so it rather irked me that Mahmood was asking if he was going to. Not as much as hearing him dare to refer to my dearest brother with that patronising pet-name.
Assef jan, I thought, bitterly, my eyes narrowing as I looked at Mahmood, who had the unmitigated gall to smile at my brother as though he thought himself Father oft the Year. What right does he have to address my brother that way? To act as though he gives even one shit about him; pretending like he's interested in the plans my dearest and I have for the day? Fuck him!
Assef was as annoyed with our father's attempts at conversation as I was. Close as we were, I was able to see the way his brow furrowed, the twitching of his fingers as he fought the urge to ball his hands up into fists. I reached out, placing my hand over his and giving him a sweet smile, hoping that I'd be able to calm him down by doing so. Mahmood paid no heed to this, but Tanya was looking directly at us, an unreadable expression on her face. Not for the first time in my life, I wished that I could read minds, so that I would know, entirely, what she was thinking.
My brother shrugged casually. "Yes, Father, I'm taking her," he said, in that slow, deliberate voice that one uses when speaking to a child or a person of extremely low intellect. My heart skipped a beat, fearing he may get into trouble for this rudeness, but thankfully neither Mahmood nor Tanya seemed to have noticed, or if they did, they weren't saying anything. Assef looked down at me, squeezing my hand. "Wali and Kamal are coming along too," he added, though this was more for my benefit than our parents. "They'll be meeting us there, at the market."
"Is that so?" Mahmood asked, still in that falsely jovial tone. "Well, I'm sure you four'll enjoy yourselves," he said, "I remember watching that tournament when I was a young lad. Always the highlight of winter, isn't it?"
"Yes, Father," Assef responded, around an intake of breath. He tore his gaze from Mahmood, and looked down at me. His countenance became softer, his expression gentle, tone sweet as it always was when he addressed me, "now, Saria, we'll need to get going soon. Go on upstairs and get your coat and shoes. I'll meet you by the front gates, okay, Liebchen?"
I nodded, looking down at my white, ankle-socked feet. "Yes, brother," I said sweetly, rising from my place on the sofa. "I'll get going then. See you in a bit." I swivelled around to face Mahmood and Tanya, bowing my head in submission and curtsied to both of them. "I bid you a good day, Mother, Father." With that, I turned on my heel, walked out of the living room, and began making my way up the stairs.
Entering my room, I made my way over to the wardrobe and opened it. My shoes and coats remained, as always, lined up in neat matching rows under one another - the corresponding shoes that would match with the corresponding coat and outfit. The floral dress that I wore today had specks of navy in it, and so I figured that my flat, navy shoes with ribbons at the tops and the buttoned up coat that matched. It was nearing the end of December, after all, and if the snow that covered the ground was anything to go by, I suspected there would be a slight chill in the air. I walked to my bed, and sat down upon it, so that I would be able to put on my shoes without having to hop about on one leg.
As I finished up tying the buckles on my shoes, I glanced across the bed and noticed the doll that my Assef had given me for my birthday seated upon my pillow. I picked her up, and looked down at her, the only good thing to come out of turning twelve. Mahmood and Tanya still hadn't said a word to me about forgetting, nor had they made even a single attempt to apologise for their error. Indeed, I wondered if it bothered them at all. Did it even matter to them that they hadn't acknowledged their daughter's birthday?
Now, was I going to mention this to them? Were either myself or my beloved Assef going to chastise our parents for their actions? Oh, of course not. Why would we? For one thing, it wasn't as though saying something would make them feel any guilt or remorse, and for another, well... the risk to our own skin was far too great. They might see it as disrespect for us to criticise them - which would result in a lengthy lecture and end, no doubt, with a vicious whipping from Mahmood's belt, either for both of us or for me while my brother would be forced to watch; a particular favourite punishment of our father's.
Besides, I too did not want to think about my birthday. Of the way that Adia had acted, so cruel and dismissive. Of the punishment that I was forced to dole out to her. Of the fact that in doing so, I might have left a permanent stain upon our friendship, just as I had done with the lighter that I burned into her flesh. I held my doll close to me, resting my chin against her head. She was the only good thing to come out of that awful birthday; that and the lighter secreted inside her, with my initials carved into it.
I placed the doll back upon the bed and stood up. Today, I decided with finality, I was not going to waste my time in the past. Today was going to be a good day. The Kite Fighting Tournament was, as previously mentioned, the highlight of winter break. I got to the spend this day with my most darling brother who I treasured above all others, and with his friends, who I held in high esteem, and who I know respected me.
Today is going to be fun, I told myself, doing up the last buttons on my coat. I retrieved a pair of gloves from a drawer and placed them on my hands, giving a final look around my room before exiting, closing the door behind me. With a newfound spring in my step, I retreated down the stairs and into the hallway. A cursory glance into the living room let me know that neither Mahmood nor Tanya were there anymore - the former was probably in his office and the latter no doubt had gone to powder her nose or something - not that it mattered to me what either of them were doing.
Pushing all thoughts of my parents from my mind, I turned and walked to the front door. It was left slightly ajar - my brother must already have gone out ahead of me - and I slipped it open with one hand, pushing past with my elbow. The cold air was biting, and my teeth chattered as I stepped outside. Assef stood waiting for me, and I made my way up to him with a soft smile. Before he could speak a word, I hugged him about the waist, feeling all the warmer for this closeness with him.
Assef leaned down to press a kiss to the top of my head. "Good to see you again, too, Liebchen," he said, and I could hear the mischievous smile in his voice. "Ready to get going?" I nodded, eager to leave the vicinity of our home and see the tournament. Assef pulled away from our embrace, playfully poking a finger to the tip of my nose, before extending his hand to me. "Come on, then. We're meeting Wali and Kamal in the market."
"Yes, brother," I replied, placing my tiny, gloved hand into his. We gave each other one last smile, before turning and beginning to walk down the driveway. Assef pulled a key from his trouser pocket and unlocked the compound's gates with it. Through the open gates we walked, Assef locking them behind him, and then, we were in the streets. We walked for about ten or so minutes, chatting about any relevant topic that we could find - basking in one another's company - until we reached the marketplace.
It was bustling with people, more so than on any other day. Children ran to-and-fro, chasing each other, laughing and shrieking with delight. Occasionally, their parents might yell at them to slow down, but usually, the adults too were preoccupied with their own gossip. No doubt talking about the upcoming tournament, I'm sure. Glancing around at the ever-growing crowds, I wondered if Wali and Kamal were here yet.
It was rather hard to see, what with the amount of people there and, of course, me being the tiny height I was didn't make things any easier. I grabbed at Assef's hand, tugging on it to get his attention. He glanced down at me, and I whispered, "are Wali and Kamal here yet? Do you see them? They said they'd meet us here, right? You don't think they're late, do you?" In those last words, I'm sure he could hear the slight budding of frustration in my voice.
He laughed, drawing me in close and ruffling my hair. "They'll be here, Liebchen," he said. "Wali told me that they'd meet us in the marketplace. And we're in the marketplace now so..." Whatever my brother was about to say was cut short as he looked a few feet ahead of him and pointed. "See? There they are, just ahead." He gestured just ahead of him. Craning my neck, I squinted a little ways into the distance.
Indeed, just a few feet ahead, both engaged in casual chit-chat, were Wali and Kamal. They didn't seem to have noticed us yet. No doubt, they were talking about the upcoming tournament, as everyone else was. Assef called out to them, but the streets were far too crowded for him to be heard, and his voice filtered off into the wind. He sighed, and looked down at me. "Seems we'll have to go over to them, Liebchen," he said, and I nodded.
Over we went, passing through the crowd which seemed not to notice nor bother one iota to part for us as they should have. Finally, though, we reached Wali and Kamal and my brother tapped the latter on the shoulder. Both whipped around, looks of mingled surprise and... subservience on their faces. Kamal was the first to speak, his voice high and an almost flustered look on his face. He looked down at me, nodded once, and then turned his attention back to my brother. "Hello, Assef, Saria," he said, with the deferential air that one might use when speaking to their monarchs. Kamal's hero-worship of my darling, just the treatment that he deserved, and the incredible level of obedience that he seemed consistently to show, made him one of my favourite people - a rather short list, and one that it was an honour to be on.
This was in great contrast to Wali, who merely gave me a somewhat dismissive glance, as if I was a rather irritating afterthought, someone he didn't want around, but who he had no choice but to deal with. I ignored Wali, then, not wanting to bother myself with his disdainful look. And neither, it seemed, did Assef. Turning from Wali, who was trying to engage him in irritating chit-chat, he looked back and forth from me to Kamal, and smiled softly. "Right," he said, "well, now that we're all here, how's about we try and find ourselves somewhere to sit and watch the tournament. They'll be starting soon," he added, glancing at the children running around, laughing and hooting with excitement. "So we'd best hurry if we want to find a decent place to sit, so we can all watch."
"Sure, Assef," Wali muttered, and Kamal echoed his statement in kind. My brother nodded once, and, with my hand firmly gripped within his own, began to walk through the market. The crowd seemed to have grown larger in the few moments we stood around talking to one another. It made me feel somewhat uneasy to be around them, and I moved closer to Assef,not wanting to be accidentally lost in the hubbub.
Assef must have noticed my anxiety, for he drew me in closer to him and leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Stick close to me, Liebchen," he said, his grip firm upon my hand as we walked. "This place is fuller than I've seen it in a long time."
I moved closer to my brother, just as a gaggle of squealing girls darted past us, their footsteps thundering and kicking up dirt along the asphalt. "Don't want to get lost," I whispered, in German. Again, my darling understood my fears, my trepidation of being caught up in such a large crowd, something I was unable to control, for he rubbed my arm gently and ushered me towards a quieter section of the market, Wali and Kamal following close behind.
"Yes, well," Assef said, in equally hushed German tones, "I don't really like the idea of you getting lost either. So you just keep holding my hand until we find a place to sit down, alright?" There was a hint of genuine concern in his voice, and I frankly didn't blame him for it. Given how tiny I was, it would be rather easy to lose me amongst these excited spectators - and, I shuddered to think, easy for me to get trampled underfoot by some overzealous people.
With my brother in the lead, and me clinging tightly to his hand, the four of us walked through the market. Assef took care to avoid the more crowded areas, which, fortunately, seemed to be waning ever so slightly the further we walked. People were starting to find their own places to sit, most of them headed for balconies or sitting outside of cafes. At one point, Assef glanced upwards to an empty space on a balcony, above a shop, and I wondered if he wanted us to sit up there. But he must have thought better of it - for he motioned for us to keep walking.
Eventually, we came across some upturned, empty, crates - not that ideal, but they were probably going to be our best option to sit on and watch everything going on. Assef tilted his head towards the crates, then back to Wali and Kamal, who nodded.
We walked over to the crates and sat down, Wali and Kamal on one crate, Assef and I on the other. Assef held his arms open for me, and I didn't need to be told twice. I moved into the warmth of his embrace, and he pressed a kiss to the side of my head. I sidled up to him on the crate, my legs stretched sideways, my head resting upon my brother's shoulder, while he ran gentle fingers through my hair. From my peripheral, I noticed Wali looking at us. There was a strange, unreadable expression on his face - I couldn't quite tell what he was thinking, and on some reason, I found myself not... wanting... to know. After about a minute, he turned away from us, and glanced at Kamal, as if wondering if he ought to make comment. Kamal didn't seem to be paying attention to anything but the sky, though, and so Wali just sighed and rolled his eyes, before turning away and looking in front of him.
Fuck is his problem? I wondered, shooting Wali the meanest glare I could muster, which made no odds, because he was no longer looking at me. Still, even a minor gesture of disrespect such as this made my blood boil. I wanted to get up, march over there and ask him just what the fuck he was thinking, looking at his betters like that, but, given that I didn't wish to start a fight - not today of all days, I opted to let things slide. This time, at least. I turned, and looked up at Assef, snuggling in closer to him, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent.
He tucked a lock of golden hair behind my ear, leaning down to whisper in German. "Ignore him, Liebchen," he said, and I was saved from having to ask if he, too, had noticed Wali's reaction to us. I nodded, and he pressed another kiss to my head, pointedly staring at Wali as he did so. Wali didn't look at him, though, and Assef returned his focus to me again. "Excited for the upcoming tournament? Who'd you reckon's going to win?"
I shrugged. "Don't know," I muttered, my head still resting snugly against my brother's arm, as he feathered little kisses into the top of my head. "I mean, there's a whole bunch more people playing this year, isn't there? From other districts than just ours?" That was something that I'd heard from the little gossips I attended school with - that not only would Wazir-Akbhar-Khan be participating, but also Karteh Char, Mekro-Rayan, Koteh-Sangi and Karteh Parwan. I knew nobody from these districts, and therefore, couldn't place bets on any of them.
Assef looked down at me, drew me in closer to his embrace. He looked like he was about to say something, but whatever that was got cut off by Kamal's joyful exclamation. "They're starting!" He nudged Wali in the ribs, pointing upwards, where a plethora of kites, all of varying colours, were turning the crisp blue sky, with its white clouds, into a kaleidoscope of colour.
This was it, then. They had started. The four of us, Wali and Kamal on one side, Assef and I on the other, kept our eyes fixated upon the sky, watching as, one by one, kites were cut and plummeted to the ground. As each kite fell, I began to count them under my breath. One. Two. Three. Down they went, their strings severed in twain, floating off. As the kites fell, I heard the sounds of more thundering footsteps as the kite runners surged forward, each trying to hunt down the fallen kites. Those were the prizes of the hour - the kites that lasted the longest meant more, I guess, than those that were cut right from the offset. That had always been the way the tournament was played - I must admit that neither my brother nor I had ever participated in it.
I can't quite put a finger on why that was. But even when we were little, at a time when other children prepared all year for this tournament, we preferred either to stay out of it, or, when Assef got old enough to take me to the market away from the watchful eye of our parents, just watch - as we were doing today. At sixteen, now, Assef had long outgrown the age when he would have participated in such a game, and I would've much rather watched with him than participate.
As more and more kites fell, I noticed the looks of disappointment on the faces of the children nearest to us. Those who had lost were now slinking through the streets, their heads down, their feet kicking up little puffs of ice as they walked away. From the corner of my eye, I glanced one boy, with a bowl haircut and upturned nose, throwing his hands up and groaning in frustration - just as a bright, yellow kite spun through the air. My lips twitched, and I had to almost bite down on my tongue to prevent myself from giggling at the young man's disappointment.
Assef glanced at me, noticing the mirth I was trying to hide, as did he notice every emotion that would ever flit across my countenance. He leaned down and spoke in a hushed voice, in German, as always. "Pathetic, isn't it, Liebchen?" he said, rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't bet money on any of these losers." Straightening up, he turned away from me, and focused his attention to Wali and Kamal. "What do you think, boys?" he asked, switching to Farsi now. "You think any of these pathetic shits has it in them to win this thing?"
They looked at each other, and Kamal shrugged. Wali, however, gestured towards the kites still airborne, then back to the streets again. "I dunno, Assef," he said, rubbing his chin, looking deep in thought. "I mean, Jansher Quadiri's kid's doing quite well, isn't he? He might have a chance."
His words made me perk up immediately. I lifted my head off of Assef's shoulder, and leaned towards Wali, clicking my fingers loudly to focus all of his attention on me. "Amir?" I asked, unable to stop the croak in my voice as I said his name. "A-Amir's here? Amir's participating?!"
"Yes," Wali responded, "him and his, uh, his Hazara. They're over there, flying that red-and-yellow kite. See?" He pointed to two small figures in the distance. Their backs were turned to us, and given how crowded the streets were, it was a little hard to really make them out. I squinted. If Amir was in this tournament, then you can be damn sure I wanted to see him. Well, there was only one way for me to really be sure. I stood up, placing one foot on the crate as I prepared to stand upon it. It wouldn't give me much height, mind, but it may give me enough so that I could see who those boys were, could see whether or not the object of my blessed affections was there or not.
The instant I made to stand upon the crate, Assef reached over, grabbing my hand as I pulled myself upwards. "Sar, what... what are you doing?" he whispered in German, his voice low and somewhat stern. He tugged on my arm, not enough to knock me off of my self-made perch, but enough to get my attention. I looked down at him, quirking a brow at the slightly panicked expression on his face.
"Trying to see," I said, standing on tiptoe and craning my neck. "I want to see Amir. I think that's him over there but I can't be sure. Ergo..." I gesticulated at myself, then craned my neck even more. "The boy in the brown overcoat, I think that's him." Assef didn't answer. He placed his hands on either side of my waist, gently hovering there, not quite touching me but close enough that he could grab me if I were to fall. I stretched more, wishing I could be taller than four fucking feet, so that I could properly see.
Kamal stood, looked at the boy with the red-and-yellow kite, then focused back on us. "Yeah," he said, "yeah, that looks like him. I think-" He took a few steps forward, squinted, and gave a more furtive nod. "That's Amir." He was more certain now, I could hear it in his voice. "He's doing quite well too, actually. He must have cut down, what, ten kites by now?"
Assef raised a brow, rolling his eyes slightly. "Well, good for him," he said, with an almost forced smile. He tugged on my arm, "Now, Saria, can you please get down from there? I really don't think these crates are all that stable and if you fall-" Those words made him take a sharp intake of breath, as though me falling from the tiniest of heights could be fatal or have dire consequences. "Come on, get down, Liebchen, please."
"Fine," I said, stepping gracefully - and carefully - down from the crate. I took my place beside my Assef again, and the instant I did, he wrapped his arms around me, pressing a kiss to my head and holding me securely against his side, perhaps afraid that I might try some more death-defying stunts. How protective my beloved could be over me, his most precious Saria. It might have been a little frustrating, but I can't deny that it didn't make me feel special to know just how important I was to him.
When my brother was satisfied that I would not attempt to endanger myself again, he slackened his grip around me, allowing me to crane my neck just-so, giving me a better access to what was going on in the tournament. My interest was now entirely piqued, and I was focused solely on the yellow kite that I understood to be Amir's. It swooped through the air, dipping and turning, circling the other kites. I clenched my fists, my heart thudding so loudly I felt that it might well burst right from my chest.
My feelings for Amir were, as of late, much like those kites that hung in the air. Strong, yet easily breakable, like the cutting of glass string. On the one hand, part of me still felt... something for him. Still felt those butterflies fluttering their wings deep within my abdomen whenever I thought about him. I still dreamt, on occasion of what it might be like to cultivate a friendship with him, to open his eyes to the beauty of the world that my Assef and I wanted to create. I wondered, perhaps subconsciously, what my adult life might look like with Amir in it, by my side, moulded and changed into the perfect partner, who would love and treasure me unconditionally.
But then... try as I might to only think of the good in Amir, I wasn't stupid. I couldn't just brush off the glaring problems that Amir had. From his timid nature, to his inability to stand up for himself or anyone, to the disgusting way that he allowed Hassan to threaten my brother the last time we met. Yes, the memory of that day was still etched into my brain, as clear as though it had happened only moments before. Seeing Hassan, that flat-nosed Hazara, pointing his slingshot at my brother's face, saying that he would take his eye out, if Assef didn't back off. Acting as if he was the one in charge here, as if he, a lowly peasant, had any right to speak to my dearest, much less to threaten violence against him. And what had Amir done? Did he tell Hassan to stop? Did he scold his servant for overstepping his boundaries? Did he place himself in harms way to protect my brother, as he should have done, as I would expect him to if ever we were to enter any relationship? No.
No to all of those. Instead, Amir had stood there, gormless, and open-mouthed, speaking not a word as Hassan made his threats. That, right there, was a genuine issue that I would need to address. I couldn't allow him to get away with such behaviour. Still, I wasn't entirely ready to give up on Amir. Not yet willing to throw in the towel on our budding, future relationship. Amir had potential - great potential - and I was determined to be the one to help him reach it. It was for this reason that, as I focused my attention on the sky, I prayed under my breath for Amir to be the winner of this tournament. Winning would, after all, show determination, courage, and a drive to succeed. It would show that there was an Amir Quadiri underneath the whining, snivelling coward, that was worth loving.
I made a pact with myself. If he wins, I thought, looking to the sky as Amir's kite cut a red-and-green one, causing it to spiral away into the distance. If he wins, then I'll give him another chance. I'll know that he's worth my time, and I can give it to him. But if he loses... I let that thought trail away, not wanting to give it even the slightest time. Amir cut the string of yet another kite, and I grinned, clapping my hands and bouncing slightly on my seat. "You can do it, Amir jan," I muttered, feeling a little saddened that he couldn't hear me from this far away. If only I could speak those words of encouragement to him, then surely he could not hope to fail.
Again and again, the kites continued to fall, reds, blues, greens, a cornucopia of colours. My grin widened as each was cut down, and still Amir remained. Still he battled, courageous and true, holding out even as I knew that his fingers were surely bleeding from the glass string of his kite. They must have been painful. Others might have decided to throw in the towel, to be satisfied with their, admittedly, incredible, performance. But not Amir. No, he remained steadfast, fighting with everything he had, giving every inch of his strength and determination to this task. Just knowing that alone was enough to make my eyes water, blurring with tears of pride as I continued to mentally offer the boy all of the inspiration that I could muster.
Finally, it came down to just two kites. Amir's and a large blue one. By now, morning had long since turned to afternoon - it was about three thirty or thereabouts, if I recall correctly - and the midday sun was beginning to retreat. The sky, which had earlier been full of colour, now returned to its original, crisp blue, with a snowflake descending here or there. But that, need I say, was of no concern to me, nor was it for anyone else who still watched with baited breath, waiting to see how the tournament would end. Would it be Amir who emerged victorious at the end of the day, cementing forever his place amongst those for whom Saria Adelah Ahmed reserves her affections, or would some nameless, faceless, worthless opponent succeed and win, not my favour, but the far less desirable prize of Amir's kite?
It all came down to this. It all rested upon this moment. I kept my eyes focused on the last remaining kites, watching them as they continued to fly. "You can do it," I whispered, chewing on the inside of my fingers. I almost didn't want to watch - but indeed, I couldn't tear my gaze away. Finally, Amir's kite was lifted by a sudden gust of wind. He looped the string around the blue kite, which desperately tried to move, but Amir wouldn't let go. He tugged on his string... this was it... this would determine Amir's place in my life.
"Oh, I can't watch!" I covered my eyes with my hands, peeking through the little slits between my fingers. Beside me, Assef made a noncommittal sound, but I ignored him. In those seconds, nothing else mattered. Nothing but the outcome of the tournament. All around me, the crowd chanted, "Cut him! Cut him!" Though whether they were addressing Amir or his opponent, I did not know. Unable to handle the suspense, I opened my fingers just a smidgen, so that there was a tiny gap between them, just enough for me to look through. Alas, the stress of everything going on had caused my eyes to blur just-so and I couldn't really see a fucking thing. I felt my stomach churn, bile rising in my throat, my body tensing up, becoming cold and warm all at the same time. For all the nerves that I was experiencing, it might well have been me flying that red-and-yellow kite, not Amir.
Then... it happened! I heard a scream emanating from somewhere in the crowd, a lone voice at first, but then joined by a chorus of others. And then, then the screaming turned to cheering, whooping, hollering. Hands clapping, feet stomping, and loudest amongst all of those noises was the sound of a boy's name being chanted, its two syllables loudly expressed upon the mouths of all who had borne witness to his victory. "Amir! Amir! Amir!"
I rubbed at my eyes, desperate to get my vision back to normal. The blurriness dissipated, and there I saw it! The blue kite, spiralling off into the distance, its string cut at last. And beside it, still connected its own string, was Amir's kite.
Amir had done it! He had beaten everyone! He had won!
My scream of triumph was so loud that it caused my brother to jump beside me. "Saria, what..?" he asked, somewhat flustered. But I was too overwhelmed to answer him. My joy was such that it could not be contained by a mere yell. I leapt to my feet, bouncing up and down, punching my tiny fists in the air, spinning, dancing, laughing.
"He won!" I cheered, waving my arms above my head, "he won, he won, he fucking won! He did it! I knew he could! Didn't I? Didn't I say-?! Didn't I tell you?!" Who was I addressing with that statement? I knew not, nor did it truly matter. "Amir jan, you did it! You did it! YES! OH YES! BRILLIANT!" The tears that welled in my eyes were now pouring down my cheeks; and I could scarcely breath, but what was breathing compared to the happiness I now felt. Amir would be mine! Amir had potential, Amir could be fixed! I whooped again, flinging myself at Assef, almost knocking the two of us backwards as I jumped into his lap. "Did you see that, big brother? Did you see? Oh, oh, I can't... I can't..." Overcome with emotion, I buried my face in Assef's shoulder, trembling as I clutched to him. "Oh, what a glorious day this is!"
Assef pressed his hand to the back of my head, rocking me gently. "Yeah," he whispered, though there was not half of the delight in his voice that there was in mine. "Yeah, Liebchen, he did. He won. I... uh... I didn't think he had it in him." Neither did I, a small voice in the back of my head piped up, but I ignored it, and Assef continued. He was now looking beyond me, his eyes focused on something in the distance, even as I continued to sob in ecstasy on his lap. "Huh. Seems Amir and his Hazara are celebrating too."
Those words made me tense up, the excitement that I was feeling melting away like icicles, making room for the burning rage that now coursed through my veins. Hassan. The Hazara. The bastard, the gross, vile, piece of human excrement that had dared to threaten my beloved, my most precious Assef. Who had dared even to insinuate that he would bring harm to the most amazing person in existence. Just hearing mention of him was enough to make my blood boil. I may have forgiven Amir for his part in that little insurrection, but there was no way, no fucking hope, in this world or any that lay beyond, that I would ever extend that same compassion to Hassan.
Looking towards Amir and Hassan, I narrowed my eyes into two cat-like slits. There they were, two small figures in the distance, cheering and whooping and laughing in glee. Hassan had his free arm around Amir, a sight that made me want to retch, and was bouncing up and down with him. How it aggrieved my very senses to bear witness to such blatant disrespect for the master-servant dynamics that Amir and Hassan were supposed to follow, but yet... I could not bring myself to turn away. I wanted nothing more than to pull Amir - my Amir - away from that putrid cretin, to wrap him in the safety of my loving embrace, promise that never again would he need to share his victories with a Hazara. He had proven himself to me. He had proven his worth, and from now on, I would be there for him. I would share his highs, his lows, and everything in between.
Seconds passed, and each became more unbearable to witness. But eventually, Hassan pulled away from Amir, and began running in the direction of where the blue kite had flown off. His footsteps grew quieter as he hurried away. He turned a corner, then turned back and yelled something to Amir - something that I couldn't quite make out over the still-deafening cheering of the spectators. Then, within seconds, he was gone. I leaned back, my imagination working overtime as I thought of Hassan running that blue kite for Amir. I thought of how grateful Amir would be, how he would no doubt embrace Hassan again. And then... then my mind gifted me a most incredible alternative.
I saw myself getting that kite for Amir. Instead of Hassan, it would be me who handed the boy that most coveted prize, me who felt the warmth of his embrace, me who tasted the sweetness of his gratitude. If I got that kite for him, then he would know, he would understand, just how much I cared for him. He would see the benefits of my friendship, and I could receive his devotion, his obedience, his... love.
It has to be me, I thought. I have to be the one to get that kite from Amir. I have to. I don't care if I have to rip it from Hassan's cold, dead hands, I don't care if I have to commit yet another murder to get it. I need this. And what's more? I deserve this. I-
"Saria? Where are you going?"
It was my darling's voice that made me stop in my tracks. Made me freeze up. I whirled around, realising that I had been in the process of storming off when Assef called me back. "Uhm..." I paused, scratching the back of my neck. "Well... I was going to get that blue kite. The one that Amir cut."
"You want it?" Assef asked.
I shook my head. "No. Well... yes. But not for myself. I want to give it to Amir. It's the biggest prize of the day, brother, and Amir should get it from a Pashtun, someone of his own kind. Not a lowly Hazara. It should be me." For a split second, as I finished talking, I wondered if Assef might think me insane for my idea. Would he tell me to just let it go? To forget it? That it was only a kite and I shouldn't waste my time with such nonsense? But no. Rather than berate me for such insanity, my brother instead got to his feet, approached me, and drew an arm across my shoulder, pulling me into an embrace.
"Well, if you're sure, Liebchen," he muttered. He didn't sound entirely convinced by my plan, but that was of no matter. Right now, all I needed was for him to agree with it. There would be time enough to discuss the logistics at a later time and place. All we needed was to get that kite. Assef motioned with his free hand for Wali and Kamal to stand, which they did, instantly, as though programmed like robots to obey my brother's every command. Assef fixed them both with a stern glare. "You heard my sister, boys. We're going to hunt down that Hazara kunis and get that kite from him. Understood?"
They nodded, ever so loyal. Assef released his arm from around my shoulder. For a moment, the two of us looked down at each other, sharing a conversation that did not need the limitations of words. This was the adrenaline that came from the thrill of the hunt. From knowing that we had a victim in mind, that we were going to hunt someone down, that we were going to cause misery and suffering. While this couldn't quite be classed as a Just-Because, due to the fact that there was a reason we were going after Hassan, it was still exciting all the same.
Kamal glanced into the distance, furrowing a brow. "I think..." he said, squinting. "I think he's gone that way, Assef." My brother turned to him, and Kamal pointed to where he thought Hassan had gone. "I... I mean, that's where that kite flew off to."
"Never would've thought of that myself, Kamal," Assef said, but there was less of the sarcasm in his voice that I knew there would have been if Wali had been the one to speak. "Right." Assef motioned for us to begin walking, "come on then. He can't have got far." And with that, with those words, the four of us began the hunt.
We ran after Hassan, immediately going in the direction that Kamal had pointed. On any other day, it might have seemed weird to see four young people hurrying through the market as we did, but right now, people were far too busy with their own chatter about the tournament, congratulating Amir, who was surrounded by a crowd of well-wishers, and clearing away tables and chairs that they had been sitting at. Therefore, nobody paid any attention to us, and we paid little to them, either.
As we continued to run, farther and faster, I definitely had to struggle a little to keep up. Curse these tiny legs. But I wouldn't stop, I wouldn't dare to complain or make out that I wanted to give up. There was far too much riding on this for me to abandon all hope now. I urged myself to move faster, with the promise of the glorious reward that lay at the end of the tunnel. It's all for Amir, I thought, as we turned a corner and descended down another street.
Assef pointed up ahead of him. "There he is!" I whirled my head around to where he was gesturing. Indeed, there, running, with the blue kite tucked under his arm, was Hassan. My eyes lit up, a cruel grin spreading across my face. I felt like a lioness who had just found the last gazelle. Oh, how I wished that the pathetic boy had been close enough to grab; I would have torn his flesh from his bones with my bare hands. Alas, he was still too far away for us to do anything.
"Come on, this way!" Assef motioned us all forward, and we continued to run. By now, Hassan surely knew that we were following him, as he sped up, attempting to avoid us by running into the centre of the bazaar. As if that was going to stop us! We continued to chase him, keeping him within our line of sight. We raced through the bazaar, ignoring the people around us, ignoring the vendors clearing up, the guests walking and talking, who paid us as little attention as we did for them. For my brother and I, there was only one person that we were interested in.
Hassan rounded a corner, and descended down a side street. By now, day was beginning to turn into night, and I knew that if we didn't catch up with him soon, we would run the severe risk of being unable to do so at all. Hassan's footsteps squelched in mud, as he continued to run from us. By now, we were all close enough that I could hear his ragged breathing, could sense the fear that the worthless maggot was undoubtedly feeling. Hassan froze, looking left and right. I made to grab him, but before I could, he bolted again - this time rushing into an alleyway.
My brother and I glanced at one another, our lips curling in sadistic delight. "He can't get away now, Liebchen," Assef whispered, "that alley's a dead end. Look." I did, and my heart skipped a beat. There was Hassan, standing at the blind end of the alley. He had set the kite down upon piles of rubble and old, broken scraps. We stood in the mouth of the alley, blocking his way out. Wali and Kamal stood on one side, arms folded, with Assef and I in the middle. My brother pulled his brass knuckles from his pockets and casually twirled them between his fingers, his blue eyes fixed upon Hassan.
Hassan's hands were balled up into fists, nails digging into the palms. His jaw was clenched, chin jutted out, as if he were daring us to fight him. I almost wanted to laugh at how pathetic he was. Did he really think, for one second, that he would be able to take us on? Four against one, and yet here he was, looking to all the world as though he might be able, not only to fight us all, but also to win. What was going through this idiotic boy's mind?
"Where's your slingshot, Hazara?" Assef asked. He turned the brass knuckles in his hand, staring Hassan down. Indeed, Hassan hadn't even brought the weapon that he had threatened my brother with, something which I must admit, I was rather thankful for. Assef spoke again, a dangerous undertone to his voice that I knew all too well. He, like I, was getting ready to spill blood. "What was it you said? They'll have to call you 'One-Eyed Assef'." I felt my body tense up; even hearing that degrading nickname, and the connotations behind it, was enough to make me want to rage against the entire world. Assef took note of this, in-sync as we were, and he placed a hand upon my back to calm me down, before turning his attention back to Hassan. "That was clever. Really clever. Then again, it's easy to be clever when you're holding a loaded weapon."
Hassan glanced between all of us, as if looking for the best way to get out of there. Not that there was any hope of that. No matter where he attempted to run, one of us would grab him and push him back. His lips parted. "I..."
"Did you want to say something, boy?" I asked, in a haughty tone. "Got another smart-ass comment? Got another threat? One you can't carry out now, of course, but come on. Let's hear it. Let's fucking hear it." Hassan didn't say anything, though, merely attempted to back away, as if he thought he might siphon through the bricks of the alley wall and be able to escape out the other side.
My brother leaned down to whisper in my ear. "See, sister, not so brave now, is he?" he whispered in German. He then straightened up, and looked at Hassan again. "But today is your lucky day, Hazara. I'm in a mood to forgive." For the first time since we'd begun the chase, I was confused by what my brother was thinking. Forgive? Forgive? After what Hassan had done? No, no. I didn't want to forgive him. I wanted rip his fucking throat out. I wanted him to bleed.
Assef looked from Wali and Kamal, and then back down to me. "What do you say to that, boys? Sister?"
"That's generous," Kamal blurted, his voice quivering. "E-Especially after the rude manners he showed us last time." 'Rude manners' was a fucking understatement - Hassan's actions bordered on treasonous, in my view. I looked up at Kamal, and saw the nervous apprehension in his eyes. He was glaring at Hassan, too, his fists clenched, his chest puffed up. Trying to seem tough, to be like my brother. But he was terrified, unsure - I could see it in how he twitched unconsciously, hear it in how his voice quavered when he spoke.
Wali looked back and forth between Hassan to Assef, as if wondering what my brother had in mind. He, like Kamal, was trying to seem bold, but I knew better. They were both fearful of what was about to happen here. Fearful of what my darling was planning to do. Fearful because they had no idea what Assef was planning to do. Assef waved a dismissive hand at Hassan. "Bakhsida. Forgiven. It's done."
But it wasn't done. It wasn't over. Not by a long shot. Not for me. I did not grant forgiveness easily. Especially not to someone who, in Hassan's case, hadn't even bothered to apologise. Someone who was our subordinate, who was lesser than us in every way. If Hassan wanted to be forgiven, then he would have to work for it. He would have to grovel in the dirt like the filthy slug that he was.
"Brother," I cut in, before this talk of forgiveness could go any further. I took Assef's hand in mine, rubbing my thumb along the back of it. My words, of course, were in German, to prevent prying ears from listening in to what was meant to be a private conversation. I wanted to express my views without input from anybody else. "You're not... you're not really going to forgive him, are you? After what he did? There has to be some retribution, and if you're not planning to beat the living shit out of him, then I expect him to give us that kite. Now. Nothing is free in this world, after all."
Assef looked down at me. He placed his free hand on my chin, tilting it up so that I was looking him in the eye. For a second, the world fell away, and the two of us just stared at one another, as if nobody else existed. Then, Assef nodded, and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "You're right, Liebchen." He then straightened up, turning his attention back to Hassan. When he addressed the boy, the dismissive tone was back in his voice. "Nothing is free in this world." He was speaking Farsi again, cold and stern. "So, our forgiveness will cost you. But you know what? Since I'm in the mood to be generous, then I'm going to give you a chance to walk away unscathed. Today, it's only going to cost you that blue kite." He gestured towards said item, which was still resting upon the scrap and rubble. "Fair deal, right?"
"More than fair," Kamal answered, though he had now taken to looking away, and scuffing the toe of his shoe against the ground.
Wali's response was a barely audible echo of my brother's previous words. "Nothing is free."
Silence reigned. The seconds ticked by, each one longer than the last. I could feel the adrenaline pumping, the corners of my mouth splitting into a wide, malicious grin. This was it. This was the moment. Hassan would hand over the kite, and we would leave him in the dirt. I would give the kite to Amir, and he would understand just how perfect we were for each other. We would live happily ever after. What other choice did Hassan have but to give in? Acquiescence was his only option. Well, that and take a beating, but he wasn't going to do that, now was he? Nobody in their right minds would risk the odds of a four-on-one fight.
That's it, kunis, I thought, stepping forward, holding my hand out, palm up, for the kite. Hand it over. Your filthy hands aren't worthy to touch it. Give it to me. We're being generous by letting you walk away. Hassan stepped towards the kite, and my grin widened. I moved ever closer to him, hand still outstretched. Hand it over. Hand it over. Hand. It. Over. Give. It. To. Me.
But rather than obey, rather than place the kite into my outstretched palm, as he should have done, Hassan instead stepped in front of it, shielding it from view. He kept the same, defensive stance that he had been in since we'd cornered him. Fist clenched, legs slightly bent, lips pursed into a thin line. His eyes were narrowed, trying, and failing to hide the terror that he no doubt felt; the apprehension that lurked behind the faux expression of bravery.
"Amir agha won this tournament," he said, slowly and deliberately, as though he were talking to expressly stupid people. "And I ran this kite for him. I ran it fairly. This is his kite." Hassan continued to stare at us, looking back and forth from Assef and I, to Wali and Kamal, as if daring us to contradict him. As if daring any of us to say that he was in the wrong - that he did not run the kite fairly. Idiot. That was not the issue here. The issue was that Hassan had placed his disgusting hands upon something that belonged to a Pashtun. It was bad enough that Amir was friends with Hassan; if I allowed trash to taint the prize he had won, then what kind of person would I be? What kind of friend? What, dare I hope to imagine, kind of future wife?
Did Hassan think that we gave two shits about what was fair? Did he think that we cared who ran the damn thing? That was inconsequential to what really mattered here; to the most important factor. I wanted that kite. I had wanted it from the moment that it fell from the sky, from the instant that Amir cut its string. And Saria Adelah Ahmed always gets what she wants. My brother would not let me walk out of here empty handed, that I knew.
Speaking of my brother, he must have sensed my agitation, for he placed a hand on my shoulder, rubbing it, in an attempt to calm me down. "A loyal Hazara," he scoffed. "Loyal as a dog." Kamal made a weird, high-pitched, shrill noise, and for a moment, a minuscule part of me was somewhat concerned that something might be wrong with him. Then, he made the noise again, and I realised that he was laughing. Or... perhaps it would be more accurate to say... trying to laugh.
Assef didn't seem to notice, or care, what Kamal was doing. He was still addressing Hassan. "But you're a foolish dog, too. Before you sacrifice yourself for him, tell us this. Answer us honestly; would he do the same for you?" This question caused a flicker in Hassan's eyes. It was a tiny flicker, barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but I have a knack for seeing these things, and I knew. I knew that he was wrestling with what my dearest Assef had asked him. My brother continued to drill into Hassan, asking question after question, rapid-fire, not giving the boy a chance to answer. "Have you ever wondered why he never includes you in games when he has guests? Why he seems to be ashamed of you? Why, whenever he's having a bad day, he takes his frustrations out on you?"
It was at this point that I decided to chime in. "My brother's right, Hassan. Think about it. Really think about it. Remember the first time we met? Amir nearly ate the head off of you, for no reason. You hadn't even done anything to him, and yet, because he was upset, you bore the brunt of it. Is that really something that a friend would do? Is that really the behaviour of someone who thinks of you as an equal? Why do you think he seems to be... almost ashamed... to be near you?"
"Listen to my sister," Assef said, "she's speaking a lot of sense. That's not how a friend treats you. But I'll tell you why Amir treats you that way, Hazara. Because to him, you're nothing but an ugly pet." That's an insult to pets everywhere, I thought. "Something he can play with when he's bored. Something he can kick when he's angry. Don't ever fool yourself and think you're something more."
Hassan flushed. "You're wrong. Both of you." He glared at both Assef and I in turn. "Amir agha and I are friends." His voice shook, and I couldn't help but wonder, who was he really trying to convince with that statement? For whom was he trying to make those words real and meaningful? Assef and I? Or was he... and I strongly suspected this was the case... trying to convince himself?
Assef laughed. "Friends? You pathetic fool. Someday you'll wake up from your little fantasy and learn just how good of a friend he really is. Now bas. Enough of this. Give us that kite."
I took yet another step forward, hoping that now, Hassan would see reason and give it to me. Even a moron like him couldn't discount the truth behind what Assef and I had just said. But... instead, he stooped down, and his fingers wrapped around something on the ground. Upon straightening again, I could see that it was a rock. He lifted it high in the air. Assef flinched, and swept me behind him, motioning for me to remain still. I could feel just how tense he was, and I couldn't blame him. Hassan may not have had his trusty slingshot with him, but there was no doubt in my mind, and surely in my brother's too, that he could do serious damage with that rock if he wanted to.
"Last chance, Hazara." There was no mistaking the underlying threat in Assef's voice. Now that Hassan had made a threat, now that he had insinuated that he might hurt one of us, then all bets were off. Assef kept shielding me from harm, ensuring that I remained behind him, out of aim of the rock that was in Hassan's hand. "Very last chance."
Hassan merely cocked the arm that held the rock. He made as if he were going to throw it, and I gulped, trying to step in front of my brother to shield him, while at the same time, Assef continued to push me back, wanting to keep me out of harm's way, each of us considering the other's safety to be of higher importance than our own. "Whatever you wish," Assef said. He motioned to Wali and Kamal. They moved to form a half circle, now essentially trapping Hassan in the alley. Now, more than ever, there was no chance of him getting out of there. "I've changed my mind." Assef began to slip out of his winter coat. He took it off, folded it slowly, and leaned it against the wall. "I'm letting you keep the kite, Hazara. I'll let you keep it, so that it will always remind you of what I'm about to do."
It was this statement, more than any other, that caught my attention. Assef was letting Hassan keep the kite? He wasn't going to force him into handing it over? He wasn't going to let me have what I'd been craving? I must admit, the idea that my brother was disregarding my wishes didn't sit entirely well with me, but then... then I thought of the latter part of that statement. It will always remind you of what I'm about to do.
What, I wondered, just what is my brother planning to do? It must be something awful, if he's letting Hassan keep the kite. Something that will really make him hurt. And it was with that joyful thought, and my mind full of the glorious mental images of whatever cruel vengeance my dearest one would enact upon Hassan, that I watched as Assef lunged forward.
Hassan let go of the rock, throwing it desperately. It struck Assef in the forehead, and he yelped in pain. Enraged, I snarled, and flung myself onto Hassan, too, knocking him to the ground. Wali and Kamal followed, and soon, the four of us were viciously beating, punching, stomping and kicking Hassan. He didn't even stand a chance. A small, skinny boy versus four skilled fighters, two of whom had committed a gruesome murder only recently, and one of whom happened to be using brass knuckles? The odds were against him from the very start. He was doomed, and we showed no mercy. Hit after hit, kick after kick, stomping on his head, punching him in the throat. There wasn't an inch of his defenceless body that we left untouched.
Should have just given us the kite, shouldn't you, you piece of shit? I thought, drawing a clenched fist back, and slamming it, hard, into Hassan's midriff. He gasped in pain, and I laughed, stomping on his lower back as he attempted to crawl away, knocking him sprawling onto the ground. See? This is what happens when you try to play the fucking hero.
Beside me, Assef was like a man possessed. I knew that the fact that Hassan dared to question us, coupled with the fact that he'd also dared to throw that fucking rock, had caused my love to lose all sense of rationality. He kept on hitting, stomping, spitting on, and beating Hassan. His blond hair was plastered to his face by a thick line of sweat, which dripped from his brow. Oh, and it was amazing, beautiful, ethereal, to see. My Assef was truly in his element right now, meting out richly-deserved justice to this worthless freak that had been a thorn in our sides for far too long.
It was like watching a lion devour a helpless zebra, predator and prey, survival of the fittest. Utterly, totally, enthralling. I became lost in my rapt attention, just watching, learning, seeing the raw power that Assef held in this moment. Not even Wali and Kamal - who might I add were doing their fair share to beat Hassan too - could compare to him. I felt as though I was ascending to a higher plane of existence, as I always did when Assef and I punished the unworthy.
Minutes passed. By now, Assef had pinned Hassan to the ground, the heel of his boot pressed into the Hazara's neck. Hassan lay spent, bloodied, and wheezing beneath him. A quick sideways glance let me know that the blue kite had, miraculously, not had any damage wrought upon it in the fight. Assef clicked his fingers, and Wali and Kamal hurried to his side, eager to obey his next command.
"Hold him down," he said, motioning to Hassan. "Both of you. Hold him down. I'm not done with him yet, and I don't want there to be any chance of him getting away. He's going to fucking remember what I do to him next, for the rest of his miserable life." Neither Wali nor Kamal moved, or said anything. Perhaps, they, like me, were wondering just what my brother had in mind. What was he planning to do to Hassan? We'd already beaten him. Assef already used his brass knuckles on him. What more was there to be done? Becoming tired of Kamal and Wali's hesitation, Assef snapped; "What are you useless lumps waiting for? Hold him down!"
They jumped, and scurried to obey. Wali grabbed Hassan's left arm, while Kamal seized the right. Both twisted the arm that they were holding, to the point where I was sure that, if they twisted them any further, his arms would break. Not that I would've minded in the slightest, of course. Still, that didn't seem to be what Assef was looking for, and as soon as Hassan's arms were pinned just enough so that he couldn't move an inch, he nodded once, then stepped off of the Hazara's neck.
Then... then came the part that I must say has changed not only my life, but my perception of my brother, and, for the longest time, caused a small but ever-growing rift to form between us. If only I had known then what the fallout would be, I would've put an end to it before it even started. I would've stopped my brother from doing, well... what it is that he was about to do. But alas, I was young and naive, and I knew nothing of what laid in store for us.
Assef's next movements were strangely robotic. As if he wasn't entirely thinking about what he was doing. He knelt behind Hassan, placing his hands under the boy's midriff and lifted him up slightly. With one hand, he kept Hassan in place, while, with the other, he... fumbled with the button of Hassan's trousers. I stared, mouth parted, as Assef attempted to open Hassan's trouser button one-handed. What, just what in the world, was he doing? What was the point of all this?
Maybe he's going to break Hassan's legs, I thought. Such a thing would've been wonderful, and I certainly would've liked to see that. But then, the excitement I felt at this prospect quickly diminished as the more logical part of my brain rose to the forefront with this intrusive, yet entirely reasonable thought; he doesn't need to take Hassan's trousers off to do that.
I was at a complete and total loss now, and Assef seemed not even to notice that I was there. He managed to undo the button on Hassan's trousers, as well as pull down the zipper, and was now inching them, slowly, down the Hazara's legs. This, I must say, left yours truly feeling very, very confused. I had never seen my brother act this way, towards any of our victims. Normally, we'd just beat the living shit out of them, and leave them crying in the dirt. Or, as was the case with Zainab, bury the corpse in the dirt to rot. But even with Zainab, who thus far was the worst crime he or I had ever committed, the removal of clothing didn't come into play. There was no reason for it to have done, so why was it happening now?
"What the fuck...?" I muttered, staring at Assef with a raised brow. On some level, I wanted to ask what he was doing. Not to stop him, but to know what he had planned. I was as much part of this as he was, right? I had hurt Hassan too, didn't I? The whole reason that we were here was because I had wanted that kite. So why now was my brother acting as though I didn't exist?
Wali glanced back, and his eyes met mine. He must have seen the confusion in them, a feeling which echoed in his own gaze. For a second, we just looked at one another, then Wali glanced back at Assef, who was still focusing entirely on what he was doing to Hassan. Again, I found myself wanting to ask what was going on, yet I was unable to speak. Wali, however, managed to break out of his confused stupor, and leaned forward. "Uh, Assef?" he asked. Assef didn't respond. Wali hesitated, as if unsure whether or not he ought to speak again. He must've thought it prudent to do so, however, as he tugged on my brother's sleeve, his voice raised. "Assef, Assef!"
"What?!" Assef stopped what he was doing. By now, Hassan's trousers were partway down his thighs, and again, I found myself questioning just what was going on here. Assef rounded on Wali with a furious expression on his face. "What do you want, Wali? Why the fuck are you interrupting me? Can't you see that I'm busy here?!"
"I... I know that, Assef... uh... agha..." said Wali, using the formal term of address, no doubt to placate my brother's anger, which was coming off of him in waves. "And I don't m-mean to interrupt, really, but it just... I mean.. what you're doing... and..."
Assef's nostrils flared. He looked unhinged, inhuman, almost... possessed. "But WHAT?! Come on, spit it the fuck out! What's so goddamn important that you feel the need to interrupt me?!"
There was a definite harshness in his voice here, and even I found myself flinching back, however unconsciously. Wali, too, was doing much the same, though his flinch was much more pronounced than mine, and he was cowering as though afraid my brother might hit him. He glanced at me again, then raised a hand, pointing to where I was standing. "I... It's just... y-your sister... she's... she's here... and... if you're planning to... do... what I t-think it is you're planning to do, then S-Saria... Saria s-shouldn't..." he trailed off, his voice fading into a distant whisper.
He needn't have spoken a word beyond "your sister is here" though. The moment Assef heard those words, he stopped what he was doing, and looked at me. Really looked at me, as though he was seeing me for the first time. As though I had just materialised in that alley out of thin air. Assef's hand, which had been lingering on his own belt buckle, fell limply by his side. His cheeks flushed, and he stepped away from Hassan, nodding to Wali and Kamal to keep hold of the boy, then moved closer to me. "Saria... Saria, Liebchen, I..."
"What are you doing, Assef?" I must have sounded so very innocent in that moment. So naive to the real world. To my brother's true intentions. Assef moved so that he was standing in front of Hassan, shielding his almost-bare lower half from my view. He began to inch towards me, moving in such a way that ensured I would need to back up if he got too close, lest we bump right into one another.
Assef was flustered, an emotion that I rarely saw him express. He ran a hand through his hair, then down his face. "Liebchen... listen... I don't... I don't think you should be watching this. It's not... the type of thing that... uh... that you... I... I mean...I..." He sighed. "Go... go wait for me outside the alley, okay?.Can you do that, please?"
Honest as I have promised to be in these memoirs, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention it was a little frustrating to be spoken down to as though I were a stupid child who didn't know her own good. I was not some little wallflower that flinched at the idea of violence. Had I not committed murder? Was it not I who rejoiced in ecstasy when my brother bit off Farsef Sajihdi's ear for me? Was I not just as bloodthirsty as he? Why now did he feel the need to shelter me?
I shook my head, unwilling to move. "No, Assef," I said, firmly. Of course, we were speaking German, so neither Wali nor Kamal had an iota of what this conversation entailed, though I saw them both exchange awkward glances with one another. "I'm not going anywhere. In case you've forgotten, I hate Hassan just as much as you do, and I want to be here to see you punish him." Did I really want that? I wasn't sure, but that was beside the point. I wanted to stand up for myself, and thus, I continued. "You have no right to tell me what to do, or decide what's good for me. I'm staying, and that's final. I-"
"No, you fucking WON'T stay!" Assef barked. I jumped, not expecting that he would speak to me like that. "You'll do as you're fucking told, Saria Adelah Ahmed, and LEAVE! Get the fuck out of here, go on! Stay the fuck away until I come and get you. Understood?!" He pointed to the mouth of the alley. When I, frozen, didn't move, Assef stepped forward and shoved me. It wasn't an overly harsh shove, but it was enough to make me almost overbalance. "Understood?!" Assef snapped again. I nodded, my eyes watering. "GO!"
I didn't want to argue, fearful of risking my brother's wrath, any more than I already had. "O-Okay," I muttered, and then, I turned on my heel and bolted out of there. Tears pooled in my eyes, falling down my cheeks and onto the front of my dress, splotching the collar with the saltiness of my anger and pain. I bit my lip as I ran, to stop myself from crying out. My boots squelched in the mud and snow. I ran, ran from that alley, bitter, hurt, and... dare I admit it, frightened. Frightened by my brother's temper, frightened by how harsh he had been to me. Frightened that he had shoved me, that it even crossed his mind to treat his Saria that way.
Yet as I emerged from the alleyway, collapsing onto a set of old, rickety steps leading up to an old, dilapidated apartment complex, my cheeks stinging with tears, hair coming loose from its ties, dishevelled and trembling, I felt... confused. Utterly, honestly, and totally confused. Why didn't Assef want me there? Why didn't he want me to see what he was doing to Hassan? Whatever it was he was doing to Hassan? It wasn't as if I had a weak stomach, that I wouldn't be able to handle watching him hurt another person. It wasn't as if I wouldn't be able to handle seeing even the most gruesome acts of violence. So why was he trying to keep me out of the loop? Why was it so important that he felt the need to lay his hands on me?
Thinking of this, remembering what Assef had done, and how he had spoken to me, made my confusion begin to dissipate, making way for yet another emotion that I did not like to feel when thinking of my brother. Anger. To have been disrespected as I was, shoved, talked down to, patronised like a child, addressed as though I were nothing more than an errant toddler. Dismissed and sent away while Assef had his fun, while Kamal and Wali got to watch and, maybe even participate in the action. That was enough to make my blood boil.
Fuming, I stood and descended the apartment steps. Beginning to pace back and forth, I grumbled under my breath, cursing the unfairness of it all, the disrespect, all of it. "Fuck this!" I snarled, whirling around and kicking the steps with a visceral growl of frustration. That only served to give me a pain in my toe, and I began to hop up and down. The stream of curse words that flowed from my lips were such that would've gotten me into a world of trouble if my parents ever heard me say them. "Fuck this, fuck it, fuck this! Fuck! SHIT! " I hopped up and down, punching the skirts of my gown with wildly swinging fists. Soon, my rhetoric changed from meaningless cursing, to words directed at my brother. "Who the fuck... just who the fuck does he think he is? Telling ME what I can and can't do? Absolutely fuck you, Assef Ahmed, you have no right. No GODDAMN right."
No. No. I would not tolerate this. I would not sit here like a good, obedient little girl while my brother had all the fun. Even if he didn't want me to participate in... the actions he was undertaking... did not mean that I didn't have the right to watch. I was just as much a part of this as he was, with just as much loathing for Hassan running through my veins as did run through his. If anything, I deserved to be there and watch far, far more than Wali or Kamal did. And it was with this determination that I made up my mind. I would sneak back to the alley, hide myself within the shadows, and bear witness to the punishment that Assef dealt to Hassan. It was my basic right to do so, and that was something I would not be denied.
I methodically began to inch my way back along the snow and mud covered ground, taking care not to make even the tiniest noise as I walked. Part of me considered the idea of removing my shoes so as to eliminate any noise they might make, but this thought was quickly covered up by the line of reasoning that I would get my tights wet and I certainly did not want to take those off and go barefoot. Instead, I took measured, calculated steps, ensuring that nobody heard me approaching. There was a small hiding spot near the mouth of the alley, one that I hadn't quite noticed before. It was a section of brick that had fallen away, leaving just enough of a space for a person of my height to squeeze in and not be visible to anyone else, yet still with perfect vantage point to see everything that was going on. I sequestered myself inside there, and peered around the corner.
In the time that I had been gone, Assef had managed to fully remove Hassan's trousers. They were tossed haphazardly to the side, resting against an old, cast-iron stove that someone had dumped into the alley for whatever reason. The Hazara lay upon the ground, bare from the waist down, his face pressed into the snow. Wali and Kamal still held one of his arms, and my brother, again, had his foot pressed into Hassan's neck.
"I don't know," Wali muttered, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. "My father says its sinful.."
"Your father won't find out," Assef replied. He had his back to me, but I imagined that he was rolling his eyes. He turned to Kamal. "What about you?"
Kamal looked away, fixing his attention on the ground. "I... Well..."
"It's just a Hazara," Assef said. But Kamal kept looking away, not responding, not even feeling comfortable enough to look my brother in the eye. Assef groaned in exasperation. "Fine!" he snapped, in tones not unlike those he had used against me mere minutes earlier. "All I want you weaklings to do is to hold him down? Can you manage that?"
They nodded, and from what I could see of their expressions, both were incredibly relieved to not be forced to participate. Which again, left me wondering; just what was it that Assef had in mind? I would soon get an answer to that, and how I wish I didn't. How I wish I had remained within the blissful ignorance that I took for granted. But I didn't. and I have had to live with the consequences of what was, for all intents and purposes, my own hubris.
Assef got onto his knees behind Hassan. He gripped the boy's hips and lifted them up. With one hand pressed into the Hazara's back, he undid his own belt buckle with the other. He pulled down his jeans, and I, feeling rather embarrassed, turned away. My cheeks flushed. Why was my brother pulling his own underwear down? Exposing himself like that? What was this?
Low grunting sounded from the alley, and I peeked back around. I looked at my brother, bent double over Hassan, controlling the Hazara's body while his own moved slowly back and forth. He was breathing heavily, his hands keeping a tight grip on Hassan's waist. At first, I didn't understand. Yes, it looked like he was causing Hassan pain; that I could tell from the way that Hassan's fists were clenching and unclenching on the ground, how his legs twitched and from the blood that had begun to pool and run down his legs.
As I watched the scene unfold before me, I became expressly aware of three things. One was a memory. That of myself, as a little girl, only four at the time, accidentally walking into my parents room without knocking, and finding Mahmood, naked, and bent over an equally nude Tanya in much the same way that Assef was doing to Hassan right now. I had been spotted and dragged from the room by Tanya, shrieking about how I wasn't supposed to have witnessed that, and if I ever dared breathe a word of it to anyone, she would ensure I didn't sit down for a month.
The second was what Assef had promised Hassan, right before he threw himself on the boy. The reason why he was letting him keep the blue kite that I had wanted. 'I'll let you keep it so it will always remind you of what I'm about to do'.
And the third... the third... were the words that Wali had spoken only moments ago. 'My father says it's sinful'.
All of these thoughts circulated in my mind. I thought of everything that Wali's father, an extremely religious and pious man, would say is sinful. I thought of how bad it must be that even Wali, who so often disregarded what his father told him in favour of the power and status that being friends with my brother gave him, who didn't care whether or not Assef was beating up children much younger than them, or convincing his friends to steal, or doing anything else illegal, did not want to participate. I thought of Kamal, unable to look Assef in the eye. And I thought of what I had caught my parents doing that one night, so many years ago. And how it was so similar to what Assef was doing to Hassan now. And finally, it all clicked, and I came to the horrifying realisation of what just what was happening here.
Assef was raping Hassan.
I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. I covered my mouth with my hands, to stop the gasp that threatened to burst forth. This was... I felt ill... I felt as though a large knot had formed in the pit of my stomach and was twisting my insides to the point that I had to double over, arms wrapped around myself. The idea that my brother was performing such an act... debasing himself... with the flesh of a Hazara, I wanted to throw up. I couldn't watch anymore. Turning from the alley, I closed my eyes and tried to stop myself from trembling. Since when did my brother engage in these activities? Since when did he... have these feelings, towards other males? If he even did have these feelings? Surely it was different when it came to a creature like Hassan, right? Right?
The budding discomfort that I felt was turning to horror as I thought of just how... illegal... what my brother was doing was. Now I know, I know, Assef and I don't much care for staying within the law; we were child murderers in every sense of the world, after all. But this... rape... was far more serious than just taking a life. Hated more, no doubt, in the eyes of the general populace. Sodomy. That was the word used for it, and the punishment for anyone caught in such an act would face capital punishment.
The idea that my brother, the most important person in my life, who I loved above and beyond all others, was putting himself in such risk, and doing so with a Hazara, that was most horrifying about this whole thing for me. I wanted to jump out of my hiding spot, to throw myself in there, fling myself at Assef, push him away from Hassan, tell him, no, beg him, to stop. To leave this madness be and just... come home with me. I didn't care if Assef would be mad at me, I didn't care what Wali or Kamal thought. I didn't care that I would, for all intents and purposes, be saving Hassan from his punishment. And I was far, far beyond caring about giving that kite to Amir. No, the only thing that mattered was protecting my brother from making a mistake that could cost him his life. If Wali or Kamal broke their silence, if... God forbid... if Hassan told someone... He may be a Hazara but I knew for a fact that Amir's father treated the servants like family and I knew he would believe Hassan. He would want there to be, oh God, for there to be an investigation.
But before I could do anything, before I could even bring myself to move, I heard something else. A rustling sound, coming from nearby. At first, I thought it must just be a mouse or a rat scrounging for food. Such vermin did tend to congregate in these places, did they not? Disgusting, but nothing to really be worried about. But then, t then, the sounds got louder. More pronounced. And they were not the sounds of a rodent, or any small animal.
They were the sounds of footsteps. Human. Footsteps.
In an instant, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I shivered, feeling a cold sweat, as if someone had just doused me with a bucket of ice water. I bit down hard on my fist, so hard, in fact, that I drew tiny droplets of blood. My heart was thudding so hard within my chest that I wondered when it would burst out. I crouched further into my hiding spot, trying to stop the panic attack that was threatening to rip me apart. Someone else was here. Someone else was watching, spying on the crime that my Assef was committing no less than ten feet away from me. That was a terrifying, sickening prospect, made worse by the fact that I was the only person there who knew that someone else was in the vicinity.
Part of me wanted to leap out, to catch this peeping tom in the act. To silence them in whatever ways necessary. But... I couldn't bring myself to do so. Fear of what might happen if I did overrode me, and, like a disgusting coward, I remained hidden. Just listening. Listening for the footsteps, for voices. For anything that might help me to determine who this person was. If I knew that, then maybe I could hunt them down at a later stage and ensure they remained silent. I would risk dirtying my hands again, throw another body in the ground next to Zainab, if only Assef would be protected from harm.
But, as I listened closer to the footsteps, I heard them squelching through mud and snow. Clearly, this person, whoever they were, was making a hasty retreat in the opposite direction. Leaving. They were running away. I let out the breath that I'd been holding in this whole time. A minute passed. Then another. Then another, until finally I felt it safe to steal one last glance at my brother. He still had his back to me, but was pulling his jeans up and had moved away from Hassan. He was done, then... which meant it was my cue to run, too.
And run I did. Back the way I came, through the snow and the mud, ran until I reached the steps that I'd been waiting by. I collapsed onto them, tears rolling down my cheeks. My knees drawn to my chest, head buried in the folds of my skirt, rocking back and forth. Oh God. Oh God. Assef... Someone had seen... someone had been watching... someone knew... and I didn't know who that person was... I was so concerned with my own fear that I didn't even think to check... I wanted to slap myself for such an act of reckless cowardice.
"No, no, no, fuck, no!" I sobbed, wanting nothing more than to let the ground open up and swallow me whole. It took another ten minutes for Assef and his friends to emerge from the alleyway. Wali and Kamal looked somewhat disturbed, but neither of them said a word. They just looked at my brother, who muttered something to them that I couldn't quite make out. They nodded, and then both of them turned and walked away. Neither had even glanced in my direction, and that was fine with me. They didn't matter. I had eyes only for one person at the moment.
Assef turned, and looked at me. I lifted my head from off of my knees, and stared at him through eyes that blurred and stung with tears. "Saria..." he whispered, looking crestfallen. He stepped towards me, then hesitated, as though afraid I might cower away from him. "Liebchen, I'm sorry... I... Come here." I got to my feet, and began to descend the steps, one at a time, feeling everything and nothing all at once. Once I was within reach, Assef pulled me into his arms, clutching me against his chest. "I'm sorry, Saria. Fuck, I shouldn't have treated you the way I did. I shouldn't have..." He pulled away, cupping my face in his palms and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I-It's just... well... there... there are certain... certain aspects of... the world... that you don't need to be exposed to. A-And... and what happened back there, what I just did to Hassan, well, that was one of them. I know you can handle yourself in most things, my darling, so much more than others, but I still... I still need to draw the line somewhere."
I just nodded. "I understand, Assef." And then I thought of what I had seen, of what I had heard, of all that I knew, and I flinched. It was an unconscious movement, barely noticeable, but Assef caught it, and looked stricken.
"Are you okay?" he asked, "are... oh fuck, did I hurt you when I shoved you? Shit, Sar, I didn't mean, I just- and you've been sitting here crying this whole time?" That was a question I just couldn't answer. Assef frantically started to check me for any injuries, looking desperate. "I'm so sorry, sister, I... Fuck... I'm sorry..."
"You didn't hurt me, Assef," I reassured him, before this could go on any further. "You startled me, but that's all. I'm fine. No harm done, and I'm not angry anymore, or... or upset with you. I understand. I just... I hate it when we fight. I hate being at odds with you, brother, for any reason. But it's over now, so can we please just let it go? Can we please just move on?"
It's not over, a voice in the back of my head piped up. You know something he doesn't. You know that someone was there, watching. And you can't tell him, because if you do, then you'll be admitting that you went against his wishes, too. And you'll have to have the conversation with him about... about what you saw. About what he did.
My brother drew me close again, and I breathed out, feeling the safety, that I had come to reconcile my darling with. We held one another, for that moment, before Assef pulled away, a soft smile on his face. "How about we head home now, Liebchen?" he asked, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, "we can swing by Belourine's Cafe on the way back and if it's still open, I'll buy you one of those muffins you like. How does that sound, my Saria?"
"Alright, Assef. That sounds good." I wondered if I sounded as numb as I felt. We began to walk away, both of us hoping to heal the rift that had formed between us this day. Yet as I looked back at the alley, as I thought of what my brother had done, of what I had seen, of what I had heard. I felt the bitter taste of shame, knowing that I had lied to only person I truly, truly loved, and I knew, within the marrow of my bones, that no matter how much I tried to reassure Assef and myself that all was okay again, the rift forming between us would take a long, long time to fully heal.
And this chapter is done! I'm sorry that it took so long to get done, but of course, it is a very long one, so I'm sure you can understand why it took a bit more time to get done. That and writer's block hit me right around Christmas so I had some struggles getting this done. All the same, I hope that you liked this chapter. Coming up next, Saria spends time round at Adia's house again. She attempts to reconcile her friendship with the girl, who is still upset with Saria for burning her, but soon a new revelation about Masood comes to light, which sparks a change in how Saria sees her dynamic with Adia...
Look for that, coming soon! Wishing the best to all of my readers, I appreciate you all!
